SAPPHIRE
Riven steps outof the water first, the water dripping down his chest following the sharp lines of muscle that I refuse to acknowledge I’m staring at.
His clothes stick to him as he pulls them on, making the simple act of dressing far more difficult than it needs to be.
Thanks to his affinity being ice instead of liquid water, he can’t dry himself. A handful of gifted winter fae can breathe underwater, but controlling it is a different skill entirely. Which means he’ll stay wet.
As he should.
He’s certainly getting no help from me. That would involve touching him, and that’s something I will never willingly do again.
Although, as I push myself out of the water, reach for my magic, and dry myself off, I’m not sure what just happened between us. Lysandra told us to go under the surface and kiss, and I remember submerging myself.
But after that? I’m sure wedidkiss, but the details are already escaping me.
Apparently, it was bad enough that my mind locked it away into the deepest corners of my thoughts.
“You know,” Riven says, his voice dipping into that dangerous, teasing tone that threatens to break me if I listen too closely, “for someone who claims to hate me, you certainly seem to be enjoying the view.”
Heat rushes up my neck, searing and infuriating, but I lock my expression into something carefully neutral.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” I say, sharp as steel. “I’m just appreciating how pathetic you look right now.”
He drags a hand through his soaked hair, water sliding down his face, over his jaw, and along the edge of his throat.
My body warms, and I internally curse him for being so irresistibly gorgeous.
“That’s an interesting way to say, ‘devastatingly attractive even while dripping wet,’” he finally says, watching me the entire time.
I narrow my eyes, hating how easily he twists my words.
He knows exactly what buttons to push, and heenjoysit. Even worse, the way he’s smirking at me makes it clear that he can see how painfully hard it is for me to resist.
We’re in the process of giving each other death stares when Lysandra’s musical laughter echoes through the chamber.
“You two continue to delight me with your… enthusiasm,” she says. “Wasting no time on embracing the most time-honored tradition of marriage—driving each other to madness. Just imagine how spectacularly insufferable you’ll be a few centuries from now.”
Centuries.
The word hits me like a sledgehammer.
Because firstly, I’m immortal. A fact that’s impossible to truly comprehend.
And now, I’m going to spend that eternity tethered to a cruel prince who views my heart as something to be manipulated, used, and discarded.
“We’ll do everything we can to end the marriage as quickly as it began,” I say to her, although even as the words leave my lips, I know it won’t be that easy. After all, this isn’t the mortal realm. We can’t just sign a few papers and be done with each other.
“Is that so?” Lysandra’s smile sharpens as she gestures to my left hand. “Perhaps you should look more closely at what’s already been done.”
A cold weight sinks low in my stomach.
I don’t want to look. I don’t want to see whatever new nightmare has just been forced on me.
But I do.
And I wish I hadn’t.
Because intertwining silver and blue lines coil around my ring finger, shimmering beneath my skin where a wedding band would be.
